Elementia race

I will never call a Latino “papi” sino héroe, soldado, sobreviviente Brother in bondage, sibling in survival The chains of the Hispanic clink with those of his Black cellmate We languish under the same white gall Asian men rattle wire fences in 1930s internment camps White supremacists l

I am from the expressions of my people flattened nose and slits for eyes leathery skin and cricks in my back each feature of mine a reflection of my family heritage

They say he could see a full mile on the horizon. They say that he could smell the seas from the plain. I’ve heard he could dance to the rhythm of a heartbeat, And visualize true beauty in the rain.

This here is real. There are no stories about happy homes and whole hearts where we come from. No fancy cars. We got no big houses but big dreams. This is crack fiends at midnight, babies crying, sleeping on wooden floors. This is the corner of Troost. On a pitch black Friday night a queen sells

When racial slurs are used against you When people leave you out because of your skin color When people look at you because of your skin When you know you’re different When someone spits at you because of your skin When your own family won’t talk to you When your friends you call brothers leave y

my hair bleeds purple when i sleep dark, violet, translucent in the way that sausage fat boiling on the pan is before it touches a towel in the way that a ghost’s imprint is before fingerprints are left on the kitchen counter in the way that black bodies are before they find themselves in front o